Young Lives eBook

As he neared his hotel, he thought of his morning
visit to Goldsmith’s tomb, and ten-fold he repented
the little half-sneer with which he had bought the
flowers. In a boyish impulse, he rang the Temple
bell, and found his way again to the lonely corner.
His flowers were lying there in the moonlight, and
again he read: “Here lies Oliver Goldsmith.”

“Forgive me, Goldy,” he murmured.
“Well may men bring you flowers,—­for
you wrote, not as those yonder; you wrote for the human
heart.”

CHAPTER XXXV

BACK TO REALITY

It was good to get back to reality, with Angel’s
blue eyes, Mike’s laugh, and Esther’s
common sense.

“Let me look deep into them, Angel—­deep—­deep.
It is so good to get back to something true.”

“Are they true?” said Angel, opening them
very wide.

“Something that will never forsake one, something
we can never forsake! Something in all the wide
world’s change that will never change.
Something that will still be Angel even in a thousand
years.”

“I hope to be a real angel long before that,”
said Angel, laughing.

“Do you think you can promise to be true so
long, Angel?” asked Henry.

“Dear, you know that so long as there is one
little part of me left anywhere in the world, that
part will be true to you.—­But come, tell
me about London. I’m afraid you didn’t
enjoy it very much.”

“Oh, yes, I loved London,—­that is,
old London; but new London made me a little sad.
I expect it was only because I didn’t quite understand
the conditions.”

“Perhaps so,” said Angel. “But
tell me,—­did you go to the Zoo?”

“You dear child! Yes! I went out of
pure love for you.”

“Now you needn’t be so grown up.
You know you wanted to go just for yourself as well.
And you saw the monkey-house?”

“Yes.”

“And the lions?”

“Yes.”

“And the snakes?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, I’d give anything to see the snakes!
Did they eat any rabbits when you were there,—­fascinate
them, and then draw them slowly, slowly in?”

“Angel, what terrible interests you are developing!
No, thank goodness, they didn’t.”

“Why, wouldn’t it fascinate you to see
something wonderfully killed?” asked Angel.
“It is dreadful and wicked, of course. But
it would be so thrillingly real.”

“I think I must introduce you to a young man
I met in London,” said Henry, “who solemnly
asked me if I had ever murdered anyone. You savage
little wild thing! I suppose this is what you
mean by saying sometimes that you are a gipsy, eh?”

“Well, and you went to the Tower, and Westminster
Abbey, and everything, and it was really wonderful?”

“Yes, I saw everything—­including
the Queen.”

For young people of Tyre and Sidon to go to London
was like what it once was to make the pilgrimage to
Rome.